Cold Night's Grasp
by Miss This or That
Summary: The cold nights hadn't been kind on her trembling body, they numbed her skin even more and turned it into an empty shell that she found impossible to fit into. She often cried in her slumber and today was no different, but the tears were far from being fresh. They had left salty ruins on her flesh, fallen empires build out of sorrow itself. He was gone.


As real as reality had felt, it was now nothing more but a fleeting thought, thrown away by cold hands that tried so hard not to grasp onto the last straw of hope. Lost through the words spoken by a voice that was a mere memory, embedded in nothing more but half dried tears. Was it worth it in the end? She wondered endlessly, even in her dreams, in these false worlds of graceful happiness and wonderful temptation. Wondered if there was a way to know why it was the only possible solution to a problem that she couldn't even understand in the first place. But sometimes she could see his fleeting form, standing at the edge of a glistening lake, waiting for her to return to him. One step forward and he was gone again, gone just like the water, gone like the spiritual atmosphere and replaced by a stinging pain instead.

The cold nights hadn't been kind on her trembling body, numbing her skin even more and turning it into an empty shell that she found impossible to fit into. She often cried in her slumber and today was no different, but the tears were far from being fresh. They had left salty ruins on her flesh, fallen empires build out of sorrow itself. And they hurt in a way only tears could hurt.

The deepness of the night hugged her tightly still and a fleeting thought crossed her mind, for far much longer than what was good for her. She couldn't let it go, though, the fear of losing that one lingering fantasy would drive her mad. It woke her, in the end, and she felt the cold sweat travelling down her chin – or was it a trail of tears, instead? So she asked herself, wherever he was now...would he, could he cry too? Was he feeling that same emptiness that filled one's body with the bitter kind of dread? It was indeed a terrible feeling, far worse than any battle scar she had received in her life. The world was cruel to allow such heartache when wounds themselves could heal, but this pain could not. It was better, sometimes, but always just for as long as others kept her company – which had become the normality by now. The night would come sooner or later, though, and engulf her in that eternal sadness once more.

But even the chilling winds couldn't stop her from asking countless questions, questions that would, probably, never receive an answer. For the winter howled at her doorstep, but never to bring anything more than a hushed whisper. Sometimes Leliana would come, a single word on her lips, one that she had learned to keep in her heart at any times: _Nothing - _because there was never anything new, there was just the same old routine with the same old heartbreak. But maybe, just maybe tomorrow would be different, and then-

"No", she breathed, a drained voice full of sleep and sleeplessness at the same time.

Something began to rustle in the far corner of the room, a shadowy place with only a single ray of moonlight giving it company. It was just enough to give the person away. She wasn't afraid of this sight by now, though, had learned to appreciate the boyish figure with the silly hat that came and watched over her each and every time he could spare a moment or two. He was huddled in the corner the same way as ever, but this time, there were unspoken words on his lips. She was only able to see them after he had raised his head upon realizing that she was looking at him through the darkness. And he stood up and came closer, until he was standing right beside her, face filled with worry.

"It bothers her", is what he muttered; a sentence that wanted to disconnect her from her own pain, but he failed in succeeding. Still, it was an unspoken rule between the two to never address her by any other word, because it gave her a false sense of security, as if this wasn't happening to her but someone far, far away. As if it was just another legend to be told.

She laughed dryly. "It always does. She misses him...but I appreciate your concern, Cole."

The spirit nodded, lost in thought, to show her that he was indeed there and would not leave anytime soon. But then he began to shake his head, as if there was more to say. Because there was – there was so much more that needed to be said, because burying them would result in even more pain.

"But that isn't all. She's hurting, howling for something true to come to her when all she hears are empty words. And there is more."

She shuddered, not because of the cold air hugging her skin, but from the words of her friend alone. Unable to lie in her bed any longer she finally sat up and invited him to sit next to her. It took him a while to do so, as he was too busy whispering more and more fears that she tried to keep away from everyone – everyone but him, for he could see right through people.

"...what else is there?", is what she asked, the tiniest hint of fear cutting through the air as the words left her mouth.

Cole sighed and his pale fingers removed the hat that he had worn; they grasped the material firmly. It seemed as if he did so simply to show that he, too, wouldn't hide when her problems laid out clear in front of him. But it was just of minor help. "Had he forgotten her the way she started forgetting details about him? She wonders. Scratches her own heart because it bleeds and the pain won't stop."

The spirit stopped, searched for a way to determine if it was alright to carry on. A painful nod was all that he needed, but she stared at him in shock instead. As if this revelation had just truly sunken in, with her heart a shattered mess on the ground. She began to sob quietly, because tears wouldn't come. Had she cried too much this night already? They still showed their crusty remains on her face with seas of red-wounded lines keeping them company. Against everything, though, she still urged him to continue, if only so that her crying couldn't be heard quite as clearly.

"The first thing that she forgot was his scent. She can only remember how comfortable she was in his arms, but that old scent of wisdom – there is no way she knows. It's gone, gone like so many more small details. She can't forget him and yet she does."

Another stop, but this time it was far shorter than the first one. Cole stood up and his feet dragged him towards the closed curtains that only let that one ray of moonlight pass through. He opened them, revealing a shining moon, a full orb that looked down on Thedas to listen to the world's rotten sorrows.

And then, still standing with his back to her, he went on, his voice faltering here and there, as if he himself couldn't quite put her troubled feelings into words. "Then she forgot his voice. Not his words, they remained with her, but the sounds they would make in her ears. They were just passing through, important enough to remember, but too quick to catch. _Ar lath ma, vhenan_, he told her. But when she speaks those words they are so very different."

"...you don't pronounce them like he did, but yet you do, do you? He...his voice, it was filled with...I cannot put it into words, Cole! Cole, you are right, I do. I do forget it all." The tears were falling, now, and the soft smile on the lips of the spirit once he decided to look at her again couldn't stop them from doing so. She couldn't even keep the charade up any longer. "What else is there?"

His lips formed words again. "She can't remember-"

But she stopped him from telling them the way he had intended. "No, no Cole. _I_ can't remember."

He started anew, then, tiptoed to her, took her hand and went towards the window so she, too, could see the moon that they stood under, hidden away by the well-known walls of Skyhold. "...you can't remember the way touches felt. They are like the cold winter wind, gone in-between moments. The only thing that is left behind is the numbness of your skin and you feel it pierce your heart. You try to rip it out of your body, but it isn't possible. And you wonder so much if that is all there can be.

In the end, you cannot even remember a face or the looks that were shared, because you try to keep these memories in a cage, but they flee every time you fall into slumber. And then you smell again, hear again, feel again, see again and it is too much to handle.

And you wonder if it is the same for everyone; if it is just like what you feel or completely different. If it was all real or just a dream that was weaved to catch you in it like a spider trapped in its own net. He believes_ you _were the one that trapped _him_."

The tears stopped, oh so suddenly, replaced by a lost, longing look instead. She simply gazed at the moon and listened to the howling of the midnight wolves that had lent their ears to acknowledge her suffering. They made her feel at peace, as if there lived a single moment in which there was nothing to fear or feel sad over.

"He wants to eat his own heart to stop the pain and scratches it away, piece by piece, just like you do, in the hope of finally ending his regret. But just like you, he forgets while he cannot forget. And he yearns for more because he is selfish enough to have fallen into a deep slumber far better than dreaming. But it turned into a nightmare, one that he simply cannot wake up from, and it destroys him from the inside."

Cole turned his attention away from the moon, unnoticed by her, and his gaze fell onto the snow-covered trees and the shadow that walked between them. It was a figure covered in old silk that made him appear almost foreign, if it wasn't for the hurt in his eyes. But even the spirit could only see the dark outline that he represented. The rest, the feelings, simply came to him like messages whispered by the winter breeze.

"...it is a wonderful night, isn't it?", she asked Cole, the tears still rested against her cheeks and travelled down her face, but the tiniest hint of a smile was on her lips. She was, indeed, quite at peace and war all at once. "I am glad that you told me this, Cole."

"He wishes for you to be happy, you see? You should run around with that curious gaze in your eyes, that shimmering glimmer that made him feel alive. Because he loves it, loves you, loves everything about you and yet-"

He stopped, and she was left puzzled.

"Cole?"

He hesitated for a long time, longer than she remembered him ever hesitating.

"No, I shouldn't speak more. But I need to ask because I do not know...is it still real, that feeling?"

She did not understand – but spoke the truth, all the same.

"How could it not be, Cole? It is as real as any other, even more so, not clouded by dreams or nightmares. It's here, always, and I can't let it go."

That was all that he needed to hear.

"I am glad, then. Glad and troubled all the same because you cannot let go. It is strange."

This made her smile, a real smile for the first time in the last few days.

"Strange, maybe, but what isn't strange in this day and age? I still love him."

He raised his voice again.

"You do?"

A simple nod.

"I do."

Silence filled the night as the wolves stopped their howling.

And in the dead of the night, between rows of trees that were still far enough away to turn shapes into shadows, there stood a single man, his face filled with longing.

_He turned away eventually, but not before letting tears fall to the ground that crystallised in the cold grasp of winter._

**_In the end, they were the only clear indication that he had been there at all. _**


End file.
